


Livewire.

by Imherepeasant



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imherepeasant/pseuds/Imherepeasant
Summary: Otis and Maeve do it, don't they.





	Livewire.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my damn self](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+damn+self).



Otis and Maeve

She knows it’s Otis’ first time, obviously she knows, but it’s still daunting. He’s still worried he’ll do something wrong, or worse, he’ll do everything right and it’ll still be bad. What if he comes too early? What if he doesn’t come at all? What if she doesn’t come, that’s much worse!  
She’s running her fingers along his records on the shelf, occasionally pulling one out slightly by its corner and looking more closely at the cover. She rests her fingers on top of the row, and pushes them apart, forcing the sleeves to tilt backwards in a graceful domino, so that she can see the cover of this most important soundtrack. Her fingers. God.  
“This one?” Maeve asks. She holds it up so he can see, standing stiffly next to his bed. It’s not one he knows well, “Oh Wonder”, and doesn’t seem to be something Maeve would be into, a far cry from her usual feminist punk.  
He nods, it doesn’t matter whats playing, not really. Maybe he’ll remember what song it is when it happens, when they…well. Do it. But the song isn’t important in itself, it’s Maeve.  
She puts it on and the piano starts. It’s suddenly different. It’s happening.  
The air is thicker, he feels his breathing get more difficult, and he’s about the freak out until she steps over, takes his hand and smiles shyly. He was expecting her to rip her blouse off and start touching him, but she leans up slowly, lips only a few inches from his.  
“Is this okay?” She hums  
“Yeah-yes. It is.”  
She kisses him, softly, carefully at first, then a little deeper. It breaks after a moment and she hovers over his neck for a second.  
“This?”  
“Yes.”  
She kisses here too, and he relaxes at how pleasant it is, it’s really pleasant. He tilts his head back, giving her a bit more room, it tingles in a nice way. And its…hot. Which feels odd to confess. There’s blood moving now, heat building in his jeans, but Otis doesn’t think about it, doesn’t focus on it. He lets it happen. He thinks about the nice stuff happening. Thinks about Maeve’s lips just underneath his jaw. Thinks about the slight scratch of her teeth on his skin and the mark that’ll surely leave. It really does feel very nice, and he cautiously loops his harms around her waist, pulling her close.  
She laughs at this, softly, not mean, and smiles up at him.  
“Nice?”  
“Very. New, a bit weird, but nice.”  
“Good. I’m glad. You’re hard.”  
Otis blushes. _Yes, obviously. Because you’re beautiful._  
For a second again he worries, until she leans against him, head on collarbone. He feels her breathing, her ribs rising against his abdomen. Her fingertips-her miraculous fingertips-trailing over the back of his neck, his spine, down, to the hem of his shirt.  
He has a sudden burst of confidence, and pulls the shirt off without her asking, wanting more of his skin to be touching hers, wanting her lips to be on more of him.  
She smiles, maybe a little surprised, and smooths her hands over his shoulders, never bored by the expanse of skin sex presents, always fascinated. Especially with Otis, who has lots of lovely freckles to run her fingers over.  
The song’s chorus arrives.

  
_Won’t you be my livewire?_  
 _Make me feel I’m set on fire._

  
She slips her blouse off, and his hands are on her back, smoothing over the flesh there, making her shiver. He kisses her now, careful at first, then closing his eyes and exhaling, tension rolling off him. It’s becoming easy, natural.  
Her hand is on his belt buckle, and she slowly pushes him backwards from that spot, the belt a handle, almost, until the backs of his legs hit the bed and he’s sitting, and she’s on his lap. It’s a surprise, but not jarring, not upsetting, and he laughs. It’s fun.  
Her hands are on the nape of his nape, playing absently with the short soft hair there, while she kisses him, and it feels amazing. His hands are on her hips now, which he didn’t know he was brave enough to do, but there they are. She’s wearing jeans and he’s wearing jeans and the way their seams are lining up is really quite interesting. The softness of her, the hardness of him, it’s all really very “interesting.” Interesting is the wrong word really. The right phrase would be _“really fucking hot, good god”_ , but the words don’t form.  
His jeans feel too tight. Not in a panicky way-the way it is when he’s about to freak out, when his skin feels a size too small and every inch of him prickles, no.  
This is nice, a nice tightness, pressure. But what he’s starting to want is to be completely out of his jeans, and his underwear, and to get Maeve out of hers (leaving the socks because apparantly women are more likely to orgasm if they’re on. Go figure) and..well…fuck.  
He undoes the button on her jeans, and she smiles into the kiss, a slight clinking of teeth that isn’t at all awkward somehow. She takes the hint, stands quickly and pulls the denim off, leaving only her underwear. It’s nice underwear, he finds himself thinking. It’s a thin cotton, pale, with little pink rosebuds on it. It’s very nice underwear, but why does she have to keep it on?  
She unbuckles his belt, grinning with her signature cheekiness, and he shimmies out of his blue jeans as gracefully as possible, despite the fact that they bunch up around his ankles, which they do.  
His, erm, well - _come on Otis, you’re about to have sex, you can use the words_ -dick is visible through his underwear. This is fine. She knows he has one, and it’s average. Well, above average, not to brag. It’s a good size, that’s the point. Nothing to be embarrassed about.  
And she is… radiant? Maybe it’s the light or the fact that she’s just starting to sweat a little in the cozy room, and her hair is all tousled and illuminated by the yellow light from the window behind. And the sun’s starting to set and filtering through the trees, casting all these dappled shadows on her.  
She’s beautiful, that’s it. And she’s horny, as it were. All the signs: slightly panting, flushed across the chest and up the neck. And she’s standing with her legs squeezed tight together..for pressure, probably.  
She sweeps her hair to one side and turns around, gesturing for him to undo her bra, which is purple, and nice. His hands are shaking a little which makes him fumble, take two attempts to undo the _fucking miniscule_ hooks from the _goddamn tiny_ loops, but it’s not nerves anymore. The nerves have almost utterly dissolved, and he wants her.  
The hooks come undone, the bra slips to the floorboards and she turns around and she’s perfect. Her (breasts? No, a bit medical. Tits? Vulgar. Boobs? Childish, but the lesser of the evils) _chest_ is flushed and heaving with the effort of her breath, which is the most amazing image ever. And her nipples! God! What nipples they are! Pink and raised and he wants _so_ badly to run his thumb over one. It takes him a second to realise he can, then he does, and she shivers, smiles  
Suddenly they’re back on the end of the bed and she’s pushing down against him, still in underwear, but the underwear’s getting embarrassingly wet on everyone’s part and she’s got to the stage of craving him. It sounds disgusting, but she can almost feel the empty space inside of her, feel exactly where Otis is not. She stands again, ignoring his frustrated, excited sigh, and fishes a condom out of her jeans pocket. He takes his underwear off. She takes her underwear off, and suddenly it’s happening.

_Let it go, paint my body gold._   
_Take our bodies higher and higher and higher._

Laughing, whispering as she straddles him and somewhat awkwardly lines up.

A smile, a nod from him. _I still want to do this. I still want you. I maybe even love you._

Slow slide, him gasping, marvelling at the heat (why didn’t he expect the heat?) and the tightness, the sensation from every single angle. The look on her face, too. Her mouth is slightly open, eyes fluttering shut and a slight smile on her face as she sinks into his lap, forehead against his, fingers laced together. She rises up slightly, and Otis almost yelps at how the pull feels. In hindsight it’s a moan, not a noise he’s made before this moment. She’s heavy in his lap, in the best way, and he can feel her toes curling in her socks against his legs. His hands go to her back, guiding her up and down, setting a slightly more ambitious pace, and she grins. She’s making the most amazing faces, and little whimpers, half breaths.  
She pulls one hand from the small of her back and brings it between her legs, finding Otis’ thumb and pushing it to meet her-well, we know what. He moves it, in circles, and it doesn’t take long after that.

Afterwards, they’re cleaned up, and tangled tightly together in Otis’ bed, trying to fit two people into a single person’s space, not minding at all. They’ve showered, and she’s taken all her makeup off, tied her hair up in this sweet little plait thing. She’s wearing one of his t-shirts to sleep in (and underwear, there seems to be a never-ending supply of her fantastic underwear), and honestly, has she ever looked more gorgeous?

“Maeve?”  
She hums in response, drifting off already.  
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”  
“Go to sleep, idiot.” She laughs sleepily

Later, when it’s fully dark and Maeve’s breathing has been regular for a while, her head on his chest, he says it.

“I love you.”

He thinks she’s asleep at first.

But it comes.

“I love you back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I binged Sex Education in two days, didn't I.


End file.
